


songs we wrote when we were drunk

by narryblossom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Hiatus, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narryblossom/pseuds/narryblossom
Summary: “That was...that was really good and all Haz, but is this gonna make shit weird?” Niall asked, lifting himself onto one elbow to peer down at Harry who, though technically larger than him, was curled up quite neatly into a ball like he was ready for a nap.
“Us? ‘Course not.” He closed his eyes while talking, leaving Niall to wonder if he’d only said it so that he could sleep or if he actually believed it.
“‘Course not,” Niall copied, lying back down. “Guess we’ll find out.”
(A quick piece exploring Narry getting drunk, getting off, getting ignored, and getting together.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i've got no idea what i'm fucking doing. catch me over on [tumblr](http://narryblossom.tumblr.com) as proof.

Harry closed his eyes and sank into the worn leather couch as he tilted his bottle and his head up to empty the last drops of alcohol into his mouth. Niall’s soft guitar playing had slowed to a melody he hadn’t heard before, his fingers somehow sober enough to keep going despite his giggly, frazzled demeanor that the empty bottles lingering around the room had encouraged over the past hour or so.

“What’s tha,” Harry hiccuped, sitting up to put his bottle on the table--more like hit the corner of the bottle on the wood and watch it fall over, rolling on its side only to stop when it hit his notebook, just short of falling off the table. “What’s that song?”

“I’m not sure,” Niall’s fingers kept moving, “always had this sound in my head. ‘M thinking about writing lyrics for it; don’t know what to say, though.”

“Mm,” Harry perched on the edge of his seat. “You’ve always got a lot to say.” It was true in a general way--if you got Niall talking, he’d never stop. He could talk about anything for ages which made him the best person to keep around if you were shy the way Harry got sometimes.

“Not now, though,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head and closing his eyes slowly and he kept playing the melody.

“Why not?” Harry let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head to the side “no one’s here but us, and I’m not even doing anything.”

“I can’t think with you looking at me like that,” Niall accused, opening his eyes again only to narrow them at Harry.

“Looking at you like  _ what? _ ”

“With your  _ eyes _ like  _ that _ .”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry giggled, “but I’ll keep my eyes to myself.” He picked up his journal then and opened it across his lap, rubbing the soft leather between his fingers as he flipped pages with the other hand to find a blank space. Niall didn’t respond to this, instead only watching as Harry uncapped his pen and tapped the barrel against his lip before scribbling something down quickly.

“I can’t think with you scribbling so loudly, either,” he joked, trying to provoke Harry back into conversation.

“I can’t control how loudly I scribble,” Harry mumbled softly, glancing up at Niall with an even softer smirk. Niall’s fingers finally fell still across the guitar strings as he watched Harry tuck a long, winding strand of hair behind his ear and flip the rest to sit at the back of his head. He chewed on his lip while hovering the tip of his pen just above the paper, probably thinking hard about translating the words from his mind to his paper, Niall thought.

“What are you writing, then?”

“It’s a secret,” Harry replied moments after Niall had asked the question, the tone of his voice almost completely drowned out by how quiet he had said it.

Niall quirked his head to the side, squinting as though he could see through Harry’s sudden cool act. “There’ll be no secrets in me studio, thank you.”

“Oh come on,” Harry chuckled, looking up at Niall with a gentle yet serious look that so often covered his face, “does that mean no privacy as well?”

“Don’t you go talkin’ to me about privacy Mr. Leak-My-Own-Dick-Pic.”

“Heeeey,” Harry whined, expression turning down to a playful pout, “I was 16 and no one really believed it was  _ me. _ ”

“Trust me, H, they knew,” Niall scoffed.

“Says you,” Harry looked down again only to glance up after a few seconds to watch a cheeky grin spread across Niall’s face.

“Let me see what you’ve been writing, then,” Niall hunched over, reaching his arm out as far as he could, which really wasn’t far enough at all since Harry was sat on the opposite end of the room. Still, Harry drew back and settled against the back of the couch, keeping as far from Niall’s outstretched hands as possible.

“No.”

“Harry.”

“ _ No _ ,” he insisted. “I told you it’s a secret song.”

“But  _ Haz _ , you always tell me what you’re working on,” Niall whined, trying to justify his want to see inside of Harry’s journal, and in a way, inside of his mind.

“Not always,” Harry shrugged, adding in quieter while scratching out a line on the paper, “not even usually. I only tell you about the songs I want you to hear.”

Niall frowned then, slowly sitting back up and resting his arms on top of his guitar as he watched Harry. Of all the songs Harry had shown him--the dozens, maybe hundreds since they began working together five years prior--Niall had only seen  _ some _ of them, not even  _ most _ of them. Knowing this raised his inherent curiosity, and he felt his guitar slide from his lap to the floor as he slowly stood.

“Haz,” he mumbled, shuffling across the room to stand beside where Harry balanced on the edge of the couch, “I wanna know.” Niall swiped at Harry’s pen, knocking it from his hand as Harry drew his journal up against his chest to hide the words written there.

“Be patient,” Harry scolded, leaning down to pick up his pen. Niall pushed his shoulders back when he sat up again, lowering himself to sit across Harry’s thighs when his back lined up with the couch.

“How am I supposed to do that when you’re writing right in front of me?”

“I dunno,” Harry drawled, looking up at Niall, eyes wide and glossy to remind him that he was drunk and his song was probably nonsense anyway.

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Harry mumbled after Niall’s eyes started following the lines of his face, slowly down and then back up again.

“Do you know how many songs are written about you?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” Harry shrugged. He didn’t know if Niall was really asking or if he was trying to make a point about something, but he really  _ wasn’t _ sure. Yeah, Taylor wrote about him a few times, and he heard some bloke wrote a song based on him, but how was he to know for certain? He was never interested; after having his confidence shattered when he was 17, he had rebuilt himself to not care what people had to say about him. He was a good guy, everyone he cared about knew that, and that was what mattered to him.

“Well there are a lot. Like, even some by people you don’t know that just write about how great you are,” Niall supplied, staring into Harry’s eyes sternly like this was something he needed to get through his head.

“That’s…strange.”

“I think they’re onto something, though. You know? Like, you gotta write from the heart and if you’re in their heart then they write about you.” Niall squirmed on Harry’s lap, turning to face him straight-on, leaving his leg pressed into Harry’s stomach. Harry’s journal was knocked out of his lap in the process, landing beside them, open to a random page that neither of them acknowledged.

“Do you write about me?” Harry rasped, throat suddenly feeling dry as he realized that Niall’s inability to sit still would, sooner rather than later, amount to...an involuntary reaction of sorts.

“You’re attractive. Like, I’ve never  _ noticed _ , yanno?”

Harry stumbled over words and confused noises, looking up at Niall with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. It wasn’t the answer he expected. Maybe a casual no or an honest yes would have sufficed, but Harry didn’t know what to do with this new information.

“Really,” Niall insisted. “You’re like,  _ really _ attractive.”

“Thank you,” Harry drawled, staring confidently at Niall despite the warm flush across his cheeks.

“Didn’t,” Niall squirmed in Harry’s lap, biting his lip because he was unsure what to say, and also unsure that he could even focus enough to both move and speak at the same time being as drunk as he was. “There was a, um, I think I saw an article about your ex’s talking about you.”

“That happens,” Harry nodded slowly, face settling again to the soft but skeptical look Niall knew quite well.

“Well, yeah, but I think they were talking about kissing.”

“I don’t follow.” Harry frowned, slowly repeating the two parts of what Niall had said, mind too far intoxicated to piece it all together.  _ Exes _ , Harry counted, _ and kissing. Kissing exes? No, no. Kissing Niall? No, that- _

“I wanna kiss you, see if they’re right.”

_ Oh. _

“If they’re…?”

“Just,” Niall wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, leaning in, “shhh.”

Niall pressed his lips against Harry’s sideways having miscalculated how far he’d really need to lean in since he was at Harry’s height now, or maybe just an inch or two taller thanks to the thickness of Harry’s thighs. Harry hummed against Niall’s lips and broke their contact only for a second before slotting their lips together neatly and kissing back with more fervor. Niall squeezed his eyes shut tightly when he started to lose his breath, thinking maybe if he did that he wouldn’t have to stop kissing Harry yet, but of course, that didn’t work.

“How was that, then?” Harry questioned, breath still tickling Niall’s mouth. The blond took a moment before responding, somehow entranced by the way Harry slowly slid his tongue against the corner of his lip.

“I think I might need,” he trailed off, leaning in once more. Harry met Niall halfway this time, humming contently as Niall’s lips were covered with his own again. Their kiss was interrupted with a small break after mere seconds, but only because Harry wanted to rearrange their lips again and again to make sure Niall was getting every type of kiss necessary for comparison, or so he’d mumbled when Niall tugged on his hair to both tell him to calm down and hold him in place.

And Harry was still after that, for the most part, letting Niall lead their kiss for as long as they could manage before their teeth and tongues became too impatient to lay pliant, causing each of their lips to turn red and sensitive and puffy. Their breathing became ragged and rushed, turning their small gasps to deep breaths and huffs against each other’s necks when Harry’s mouth wandered, leaving small red and purple bruises in its wake. Niall squirmed in his lap all the while, just as Harry suspected he would, making Harry desperate for more.

“Fuck,” Niall moaned feeling Harry’s hand brush just over his crotch at the same time as his teeth dug into a sensitive part of his neck. “Fuck,  _ fuck, _ ” he panted, shoving Harry back by his chest despite his attempt to draw Niall closer in his arms and keep on.

“What are we doing?” he mumbled when Harry’s eyes were on him, all wide and yeah, still glossy and definitely drunk.

“I,” Harry stumbled, frowning like he didn’t understand what Niall was asking. “Didn’t you want…?”

“I,” he sighed, licking his lips, “I think, um,”

_ I think I should get up, I think we should stop, I think if I keep kissing you I’m gonna need your mouth somewhere else. _

“It’s fine,” Harry smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was tight-lipped and closed with the rejection he recognized in Niall’s hesitation.

Niall got up even though he didn’t want to, stumbled across the room to grab his guitar and his own notebook like he was gonna head home, slurring about nothing being able to find anything when he felt two hands grab his waist from behind.

“Maybe,” Harry breathed into his ear, “maybe stay a while, actually? Could use a hand...cleaning up.”

“Cleaning up,” Niall repeated, turning in Harry’s arms to see if he was serious or not.

“Or maybe a hand with something a bit more urgent,” Harry suggested, pressing one hand against Niall’s back, effectively pulling their bodies closer together so that they could really feel where they both seemed to think that kiss was going.

Niall’s arms were wrapped around Harry’s neck before he could register what he was doing, and quite the same for his legs after Harry lifted him up by his waist just enough for Niall to get the hint. Harry didn’t let Niall press their lips together just yet, instead choosing to look over Niall’s shoulder so that Harry could make sure they would reach the couch safely despite his  extra clumsy and wobbly legs.

Harry pressed Niall’s back into the cushions, laying himself between his legs as their lips finally reunited. Niall moaned almost immediately as he felt the weight of Harry’s body press against his crotch, rutting up desperately for any relief of the feeling building up inside him. Harry rutted back just as much, rubbing their cocks between them and several layers of fabric for as long as possible before he couldn’t wait any longer.

Harry’s hand reached down between them before Niall could even think to, unbuckling his own belt and shoving his jeans down just far enough for his dick to be freed of its confines, because of  _ course _ he wasn’t wearing underwear, how very  _ Harry _ of him, Niall thought.

“Okay?” Harry mumbled, eye wide and pupils blown with the lust of a release. His hand reached for Niall’s jeans as he spoke, just barely lifting his shirt out of the way as if he was waiting for Niall to stop him.

“Okay, yeah,” Niall panted, shifting his body down just a few more inches to provoke Harry to hurry, and he did. He kissed Niall again, hard and quick, as he fumbled around with the last bits of fabric that separated them.

Niall hissed when Harry finally got his hand around him, feeling all too sensitive yet still so hungry to be touched. Harry gave a few tentative pumps merely to get a reaction out of Niall before stretching his hand and grabbing himself as well, working them together slowly before Niall started bucking up into his touch, moaning  _ faster, faster _ .

Niall hissed into his ear, head tilting back against the arm of the couch, exposing his throat for Harry to bite down on to stifle his own moans as they built up in his throat; deep guttural sounds just as Niall had always thought Harry would make during sex. It didn’t take long to get Niall spilling across Harry’s fist, just a few strong ruts of his hips into his hand and a moan of his name, but fuck, Harry wasn’t that far behind. Niall’s hand took over Harry’s after he’d came, and though Harry had never really liked calloused hands before, after the orgasm Niall’s hand gave him, they were all he could fucking think about.

“Fuck,” Harry panted, falling to lay against Niall’s side, tucked under his arm and squished against the back of the couch.

“That was...that was really good and all Haz, but is this gonna make shit weird?” Niall asked, lifting himself onto one elbow to peer down at Harry who, though technically larger than him, was curled up quite neatly into a ball like he was ready for a nap.

“Us? ‘Course not.” He closed his eyes while talking, leaving Niall to wonder if he’d only said it so that he could sleep or if he actually believed it.

“‘Course not,” Niall copied, lying back down. “Guess we’ll find out.”

X

Maybe weird wasn’t the word Niall should have used, because sure they woke up a couple of hours after  _ The Incident _ covered in cum and sporting matching hangovers, and it wasn’t  _ weird _ so much as  _ awkward. _ Harry’s soft chuckles and quick, almost shy, glances as they readjusted themselves and cleaned the room were almost worse than the instant goodbye Harry pressed into the room after they’d finished tidying.

They were fine, though, for the most part. They only started ignoring each other because of the hiatus and totally not because they’d gotten drunk and rutted off each other like horny teenagers. Absolutely not because of that.

Harry was away filming and Niall was backpacking Asia. That’s why they hadn’t talked in six months, because those two things hadn’t only taken each of them a handful of weeks, and the aftermath of them essentially having sex definitely was not putting a hinderance on their relationship.

It was useless for Niall to tell himself that, though he did anyway. He and Harry had always been close mates on tour, but when they got breaks from each other, they rarely talked. It wasn’t because anything had happened, it was just because they had freedom and needed to spend some time away to find out which pieces of them really belonged to them and which they’d adopted from the other person.

That’s why he was okay with not talking to Harry for six months, and why he wasn’t mad at all that Harry only wanted to talk to him after he released his debut solo into the world. He considered opening their chat with “if you ask me if it’s about you, I’ll punch ya,” but he was afraid that would give too much substance to their drunken antics of a few months prior, afraid that maybe it would make harry think he hadn't been able to move on from that. He settled instead with “Can you see me?” as he settled in against the headboard of his temporary bed, laptop balanced between his raised thighs and belly.

“Uhh,” Harry drawled, waiting for Niall to still so that his camera could pick out his figure in the dim light illuminating his face from the screen. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Cool,” Niall nodded slightly, leaning his head back against the wall as he raked his fingers through his hair. He was nervous in a way he hadn’t really experienced before. This was  _ Harry, _ one of his best mates. There was no reason to be nervous talking to him; they were experts at falling back together after all these years, but still he just...couldn’t think of what to say, leaving he and Harry staring at each other for longer than necessary before Harry cleared his throat and asked,

“Where are you tonight?”

“New York City,” Niall smiled lazily. “You?”

“Home.”

Niall wasn’t sure where Harry’s home was anymore. When he bought a house in LA, he heard that Harry was living there too. He distinctly remembered getting a house warming invitation to Harry’s new house in the hills, but when he talked to Anne on her birthday, she had mentioned having seen Harry lately in London. He knew that Harry could be travelling, that wasn’t unlikely, but he had learned over the years that Harry was very particular about a few things, and to him, the difference between a house and a home was massive.

Harry watched the gears turn in Niall’s head as he thought, quietly interrupting to get him talking again.

“How’s the city? Did you get to see it this time?”

Niall sighed before answering, looking over the camera rather than through it at Harry while he spoke.

“I walked around a few blocks but it wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be...kinda lonely in a big place like this with no one to talk to.”

“I can imagine,” Harry paused, weighing his next words on his tongue carefully like he wasn’t sure if he could handle them or if Niall could handle them either. “Wish I was there with you,” he said anyway.

Niall sighed, closing his eyes as he rubbed his hand down his face. He groaned, but it turned into a whine of Harry’s name.

“You could have come. You know I wanted to see you before this all took off. I invited you lot out and none of you wanted to get out and do this with me yet.”

Niall was right and Harry couldn’t deny that. He had been keeping their group chat updated every step of the way, giving them first listen to his song, inviting them out to a small house party to celebrate when it was released, asking them, almost begging at least one of them, to come with him to his first few performances so he didn’t feel so fucking alone.

“I know but I’m just so…”

“Don’t say busy.” Niall’s eyes finally met Harry’s through the screen, a glare almost piercing straight through.

“I  _ am _ , though. It may not seem like it, but I’m writing so much, trying to find producers, arranging stuff for the movie, the magazine…”

“Yeah, so much,” Niall interrupted sarcastically. “Not like any of that can be handled by publicists or assistants or anything.”

“I miss you, Niall,” Harry sighed, dropping his defenses. “I wish I was there with you.”

“Stop,” Niall cringed. He didn’t want to hear that. He absolutely did not want to hear Harry say that after making absolutely no attempt to talk to him one-on-one since the day they’d left the studio together.

“I would…” he mumbled, voice fading out as he sighed. His hand instinctively reached for his hair but fell short as his fingers slipped through what little of it remained after chopping it off for his magazine shoot.

“It’s late,” Niall supplied, looking over at the clock beside his bed to make sure he wasn’t being entirely ridiculous in his excuse to end their call.

“It’s only 11,” Harry frowned. Niall still couldn't tell where Harry was--he knew Niall’s timezone obviously, but surely wasn’t in New York as well, or even on the east coast at all. He had never called the east coast home.

“You know me, early bird…”

“Early bird…” Harry sighed, staring at the camera like he wanted to say more.

“Goodnight, H.”

Harry stared on as Niall gave a tight-lipped smile and ended the call before Harry could open his mouth to protest. Niall closed his laptop and put it down after that, curling in on himself and burrowing beneath the blankets in his bed. His cheeks were turning red in the heat trapped under the blanket, or maybe they were only blushing because seeing Harry had stirred up a feeling in his stomach that he’d been suppressing for a while now. He was drunk when they had sex, that much he was sure about, but he remembered it and though he’d never admit it out loud to anyone, he thought about it a lot when he was  _ alone _ .

Niall squeezed his eyes shut tight and held his breath like he had when he was kissing Harry, this time thinking he just needed to wipe him out of his mind and this would all go away, but it didn’t work. It never did.

X

Niall hadn’t spoken to Harry in longer than he’d like to admit. He maintained that One Direction were on good terms with one another, but he didn’t mention that these terms were built around silence. Sure they still talked in their group chat when one of them wanted to share something--Louis always about Freddie, Niall and Liam about their music, and Harry about, well...whatever he felt necessary to fill the silence. The thing was, though, there was still a drift between Niall and Harry. Their direct messages had long since dried up and died, and in fact, their last skype call had been months before. Niall was starting to think that Harry would never come around until they were all bored of being bored and decided to gather up their One Direction team again and reconquer the world together.

That was, until Harry knocked on his door out of the blue on one chilly January evening.

“Your hair looks fucking weird, mate,” were the first words out of Niall’s mouth after the pair stood starting wide-eyed and slack jawed at one another for a few moments. Harry’s expression turned into a soft smile and a laugh as his hand came up to rub the back of his neck.

“I’m working on it.”

“C’mere, then, you’re letting me air out.” Niall stepped back into his house, holding the door open wide and his arms wider. Harry sauntered in, wrapping Niall up tight in his arms as the door swung shut behind him.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into Niall’s neck.

“Missed you, too,” Niall sighed back, rubbing the knots out of Harry’s shoulders.

“‘M sorry I didn’t call first.”

“It’s probably good you didn’t,” Niall said as he pulled back, gently punching Harry’s arm even though it was obvious that he was toned as hell and could definitely take a hit. “I’m mad at you; might not have answered.”

“Mad at me?” Harry squawked. “For what? I just got here.”

“ _ Exactly _ ,” Niall turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, knowing Harry would follow. “You  _ just  _ got here after I’ve been waiting for almost a year to hear from ya.”

“Oh, right.” Harry stopped at the island, ringed fingers clanking against the cold countertop as he splayed them out to hold himself up. Niall went to the fridge and grabbed them both a beer, turning back to Harry to find his eyes already on him.

“I was shooting a magazine and filming a movie, you know that,” he mumbled as he took the cool bottle from Niall’s hand.

“Guess I did,” Niall shrugged, pulling the cap off his bottle, passing the opener to Harry afterward. “Just woulda been nice to hear from you. Started thinking I was being ignored for a while--you went from my best mate to a ghost.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Harry sighed, opening his bottle and sliding the opener and he lid back towards Niall, giving himself something to focus his attention on rather than Niall.

“Yeah,” Niall shrugged, leaning against the counter, “I’m over it. The past is the past and all that, innit? You were busy, I was busy, besides… it’s nice to have some time away,” Niall took a sip and watched Harry stare back blankly while he spoke.

“Is This Town about me?” Harry asked after taking a long swig of his drink.

“Fuck, mate,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head, “Haven’t you been listenin’? I keep saying it’s not about anyone in particular.”

“But it’s about me. It’s what you were playing in the studio before we kissed.”

“Before we did a lot more than kiss, you mean.” Niall quirked his eyebrow at Harry’s exasperated look.

“Yes, Niall,” he sighed, “before we kind of but not really fucked.”

“Yeah,” Niall shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Yeah…?” Harry questioned, watching Niall’s adam’s apple bob as he tilted his head back far and chugged the contents of the bottle.

“It’s about you, H.”

Harry’s bottle fell again the way it had in the studio, but this time there was nothing to stop it from rolling off the counter and spilling on the floor. He stepped around it to get to Niall, grabbing his face with both of his hands and kissing him hard before he could bitch at Harry to clean up his mess.

“Not again,” Niall gasped out when he found it in him to push Harry back a few moments later.

“Please,” Harry panted, brushing his thumbs across Niall’s cheeks. “You’re all I can fuckin’ think about.”

“Yeah, and maybe you’re all I can think about too, H, but shit got weird even though we didn’t want it to.”

“I think,” Harry mumbled, brushing his thumbs against Niall’s cheeks, “I think there’s something about you. Like, yanno how we could not talk at all after tour and then be fine again when the next one started? Well, like, we could do that now. We could pick up where we left off and see if there’s something between us.”

“Harry, why would there be,”

“Ni, admit it. You don’t just go making out with any of your mates when you get drunk, and I don’t either. We could have something here.”

“I dunno,” Niall sighed, looking up into Harry’s eyes. He wanted to believe him, wanted his years worth of pining to come to some fantastic conclusion like in the movies, but he  _ knew _ Harry and he knew his heart wasn’t ready to settle yet. They’d have a fling at best, and at worst a relationship ending in flames.

“I don’t know if I’m willing to risk our friendship for a hookup, H.”

“I don’t want it to be a hookup, though. I wanna try this.”

Niall grabbed handfuls of Harry’s shirt just at his hips, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to stop, “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m very serious.”

His last words were smashed against Niall’s eager mouth as he leaned in, all tongues and teeth and rutting hips all over again.


End file.
